


In and Out

by antharyn



Series: Two Years Without Rain [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antharyn/pseuds/antharyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt didn’t know what he was to Alby other than his best friend and second in command. He didn’t know if fucking on the side was enough to change that. He loved Alby in every sense of the word, but if the Maze taught him anything it was that he couldn’t ask for more than he was given.</p><p>Or, Newt and Alby talk (and more) the night before Alby runs the Maze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In and Out

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't necessarily a sequel to Before the Dawn, but the events are directly related. I'm going through the timeline of the books but using different character's points of view and centering on Alby x Newt. Or like, centering on Newt, really. 
> 
> Alby is OOC here if you're loyal to the book!verse, but as I mentioned in Before the Dawn I'm going with the characterizations in the movie, but still incorporating themes from both the book and the movie as needed. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Alby didn’t make a sound when the door to the Homestead opened, not wanting to appear overeager. He knew Newt was angry at him. No one had been paying any attention to them in particular when Newt walked out on him right after Ben’s banishment earlier that afternoon, but Alby felt the distance like a knife to the gut. He knew Newt wasn’t angry over Ben; his vote had been the same as all the other Keepers. But he didn’t doubt for a second that Newt had figured out he’d decided to run the Maze himself with Minho tomorrow. Damn if the blond wasn’t always a step ahead of him. He should have seen it coming.

 _Right…left…another right…the third left…_ Alby concentrated on the map he was reading, ignoring the draft from the open door and trying to memorize the shortest route to the inner ring of the Maze. He may not be the best candidate physically to run it anymore, but his mind was still as sharp as ever and he had the good of the Glade and its Gladers to think of. That had always been motivation enough to get the job done.

Below the loft that was his and Newt’s sleeping quarters, Newt was still at the door talking to someone. Alby thought it sounded like Minho, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. The light from the lanterns flickered, disturbed by the light breeze coming in from the open door. Alby started to have to squint to be able to read the map properly and he had to call out to Newt.

“Gonna be there all night?” He said loudly. “Draft’s coming in.”

The wooden door of the Homestead creaked and Alby could imagine Newt leaning in to answer him. “I’ll be up in a minute, Alby,” the blond said. Nothing seemed out of sorts with the way he said it; maybe Newt wasn’t mad at him anymore. In any case Alby wanted to see him. If he was going to be running the Maze tomorrow and the Grievers decide to go on an afternoon stroll, then he wanted to set some things straight with the younger boy.

But Newt was still talking to Minho so Alby sighed and rolled up the map, having etched it into his memory as well as he possibly could. Now that Newt was here he concentrated on what he was going to say to him. He’d be leaving the Glade to Newt while he was gone. But the blond had been with him since day one; he knew how things ran in the Glade as well as Alby did, worked every job just like Alby had, and pulled the slack where it was needed. And the Keepers were all good, smart lads—more men than boys now really. The Glade was in good hands; they wouldn’t need to discuss much for it.

No, Alby wasn’t worried much for the Glade at all.

“Newt,” Alby called out again and this time Newt didn’t answer him, but Alby heard the Homestead doors close. 

Newt didn’t turn up at the top of the stairs in the next few seconds, however. Alby strained to hear the sound of the younger boy moving around on the floor below him and after a few minutes he heard sound of running water. Alby huffed. _Fine time for bath, shank,_ he thought as he rolled out of his cot and went down to where Newt was no doubt taking a bath. He grabbed some threadbare towels and a change of clothes for both him and Newt then he knocked on the door the showers and stepped inside.

Newt was already naked and scrubbing the dirt off his skin. His blonde hair was slicked back and sticking to his neck and shoulders. He looked up as Alby entered and nodded in greeting.

“Mind if I join you?” Alby asked and Newt shook his head.

“You were needing a bath, but I didn’t want to say anything,” Newt said airily and Alby chuckled and started undressing.

They didn’t have showers in the Glade so they had to make do with buckets. Alby grabbed a dipper and doused himself with water then he started lathering himself up with soap. Beside him, Newt did the same with his back turned to Alby. The next few minutes passed in silence, not necessarily awkward, but nowhere near comfortable. Alby rinsed himself and glanced at Newt who still had his back turned to him. While Newt wasn’t as welcoming as he usually was, he had yet to show he was opposed to Alby’s presence so Alby did what he almost always had to do to get by in the Glade. He took a long shot.

He put a hand on Newt’s shoulder and gently but firmly turned him around to face him. The blond’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t resist until he was facing the older boy.

“Talk to me,” Alby ordered quietly and Newt swallowed.

“Got nothing to say, Shank,” was Newt’s weak response. He looked up and met Alby’s eyes uncertainly. Without another word, Alby leaned in and pressed their lips together, kissing the blond slowly. Newt stood stock-still, tense and unresponsive, and if Alby didn’t think the blond was angry before, he was definitely sure now. But he persisted, putting a hand on each of the blond’s biceps, kneading the lean muscles there. The stubborn line of Newt’s lips started to give, and he tentatively put his hands on Alby’s hips. After few while he slowly started to kiss Alby back, and that’s when Alby pulled away.

“Still got nothing to say?” Alby challenged, smirking.

Newt’s face was flushed and scowled at him and muttered something that sounded like “you shuck” before he pulled Alby to him and crushed their lips together. This was what Alby was waiting for.

Every Glader knew Newt was the one who was better with words. He could talk the terror out of anyone and had a talent for keeping the calm in a bad situation. All Alby ever did those times was yell at people and make them feel bad. Alby was good at keeping people in line, but Newt was better at keeping people together. Alby never resented him for it and Newt never blamed him; it wasn’t his job as Leader to be good at everything.

But at this—hands groping, hips pushing, teeth biting and worrying red marks on pale skin—Alby truly had the upper hand. It was how they had both gotten where they were in the first place. He’d given into his instincts on a particularly bad night when Newt was inconsolable and needed more than the usual pat on the back and Alby’s gruff words to keep him from flying apart. He had said with his body what he knew he would only ruin if he opened his mouth, and he did it again and again for the younger boy who currently had his arms around Alby like he was trying to crawl inside him—always with his body, hardly ever with his words.

Newt was taller than Alby, but Alby was broader and heavier and he used that against the blond, walking him backwards until Newt’s back hit the wooden wall, making him hiss and then moan when Alby started to rut their hips together. “Nobody else in here?” Newt gasped and Alby shook his head.

“You locked the door?” he countered and the blond nodded.

“Let me…” Newt murmured between kisses, pushing at the older boy’s hips with his hands. “Shuck, Alby, I want to…just…” He shoved at Alby’s hips until there was enough distance between them before kissing a blazing trail down Alby’s neck and chest and then getting on his knees to take Alby into his mouth.

“Shuck,” Alby breathed, threading his fingers into Newt’s hair and biting his lip to keep from causing a commotion that would attract other people’s attention.

On good days, Newt would tease him for hours—all warm breaths, light touches, and a cheeky grin, his eyes glinting mischievously in the low light of the lanterns. They had no time for any of that tonight, and all Newt was willing to be right now was quick and efficient until Alby found himself struggling not to come too soon.

He tightened the hand he had in Newt’s hair and pulled the younger boy off him. “Keep that up and we won’t get to the good part,” Alby said, pulling Newt up and pressing his lips to the blond’s. Newt surged up against him, practically devouring him in response.

“Then let’s get on with it, yeah?” He rasped and Alby growled.

“Not here, shank,” was all Alby said before he pulled Newt back out and up to their loft, nearly stumbling over the stairs in their hurry. He had Newt on his back and under him in no time, their lips coming together and apart with lewd noises, slower this time as Alby tempered the mood to something less desperate despite Newt’s clamoring for the opposite.

“I was gonna tell you myself,” he muttered once the younger boy had calmed down somewhat. “But you had it all figured out and just decided to shucking disappear, slinthead.”

“Just needed time to think,” Newt whispered and Alby kissed him again and gathered him in his arms, slotting their hips together and thrusting slowly, making Newt moan.

“And what did you think about?”

“That you’re a bloody shuck.”

Alby frowned and pulled away. “For planning to run into the Maze tomorrow? For trying to find out what happened to Ben?” He asked testily. The hurt was starting to creep into his voice, he knew, but of all people Newt should have understood the decision without their having to talk about it. He started to pull away, but Newt held him fast.

“For not bloody telling me,” Newt whispered, and Alby’s flaring temper winked out like a light. “You could have told me before you went to Minho. Or all three of us could have talked. I’m not an idiot; I know why you’ve got to do it, and yeah, you’re right. It _has_ to be you. I bloody get that.” The blond held Alby’s face close to his and looked up at him with hurt eyes. “But you bloody disappeared with Minho for hours and left me going mad wondering why I wasn’t in the know. I’m your--I mean, I—”

Newt cut himself off uncertainly. He didn’t know what he was to Alby other than his best friend and second in command. He didn’t know if fucking on the side was enough to change that. He loved Alby in every sense of the word, but if the Maze taught him anything it was that he couldn’t ask for more than he was given. So he swallowed and forced a chuckle.

“I’m your second in command, yeah? How about you treat me like it?” He finished lamely, looking up at Alby.

The darker boy stayed quiet for a long time before he sighed and settled back down over Newt like a heavy blanket. “You’re not just my second in command, you dumb shuck.” He left it that and kissed Newt soundly, pouring every apology he could think of into it.

_I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you’re scared. I’m sorry I can’t get us out of here._

Alby got their hips moving again, their hands gliding over each other’s still-wet skin, legs tangling as they moved in tandem. He’d never get enough of Newt, not if they did this everyday or even every hour. He felt it every bit as much as the blond did, even if he didn’t always show it. Newt was his lifeline as much as he was Newt’s, and it still made Alby angry to this day that he had to almost lose the blond to the shucking Maze and the fear and despair it generated to realize it.

“Alby, it’s…bloody hell…” Newt gasped after a while, pulling at the older boy to try and get him to quicken his pace. “It’s not enough…let me up…”

Alby turned them to lie on their sides and Newt pulled away, pushing the older to lie on his back and then straddling him. The blond reached over to grab the small jar of salve they kept by the edge of their cot and coated his fingers with its content. It was meant for minor wounds and muscle pains, but it was the right consistency for what they needed. Newt always felt bad for the Runners when he took one for him and Alby whenever the supplies came in, but he wasn’t thinking about that at all as he reached behind him and started to prepare himself.

Newt bit his lip against the sting and Alby kissed him again, running his hands all over the younger boy’s body, whispering encouragement into pale skin of Newt’s throat and chest even as he kept up their languid pace with his hands on Newt’s hips. Newt moaned softly and pressed his forehead against Alby’s, gasping whenever he nudged the sweet spot inside him. He moved his fingers gently but economically. He didn’t want to rush it, but he didn’t want to waste time either.

Finally—when he felt he was relaxed enough and when Alby’s grip on his hips started to get tighter and the teeth and lips on the graceful wings of Newt’s collar bone became more demanding—Newt pulled his fingers out of his body and whispered a shaky “ready”. Alby kept a firm grip on him as he rolled them over so Newt was on his back again. Alby put the blond’s legs over his shoulders and then they both grunted when the older boy slid home in one long, slow push.

“Sh-shuck!” Newt hissed and then whimpered, and Alby groaned as the younger boy’s body tightened around him.

He pulled back and then pushed hard, jarring a cry from Newt’s throat, and Alby did it again as he set a quick pace—hard and fast. They were used to it; hard and fast was all they had time and energy for most days.

Newt arched his back and bit his lip to stifle the noises he was making. He kept his legs locked over Alby’s shoulders, keeping the older boy close and himself open. His hands wandered over the vast expanse of the dark skin of Alby’s back and chest as he urged Alby on. For all that Alby was hot-blooded and ill-tempered outside the walls of their quarters, he was a considerate and terribly attentive lover within them.

Newt took a shuddering breath and pressed his face against Alby’s neck to quiet his panting. Alby fucked him hard and deep, driving shaky gasps out of him and outright cries the blond couldn’t stifle when the angle was right, and Alby took it all in greedily—the way Newt looked, sounded, and felt—and let it fuel the fire in his veins. Let it drive him to push and pull and bite down on Newt to get more until the blond threw his head back and went taut like a wire pulled too tight.

Newt’s eyes closed tight and he sank his teeth into his lower lip as he came. Alby tugged it down with his thumb without thinking, letting the guttural groans and breathless gasps escape kiss-swollen lips. The blond shuddered and Alby slowed the hand he had on him, stroking him gently now and picking up his own pace.

The blond gasped Alby’s name and continued to writhe as the darker boy surged into him, holding his knees up and apart. Newt reached up and wrapped his arms around Alby, kissing his lips and neck and moving hips to meet his thrust as best as he could until Alby came with a snarl, losing all rhythm and pushing Newt hard into the cot as he breathed harshly against Newt’s neck. He crushed the blond to him in his arms and Newt held him even as he tried to catch his own breath. Newt held onto Alby until the older boy sagged against him then he pulled Alby’s face toward his so they could kiss.

As much as they hated every day—every minute—in the prison that was the Glade, they sometimes wished time would stop in moments like this: moments where neither of them had to think about anyone’s welfare but their own, and the insane cruelty of the Creators and Maze they’ve all been trapped was the last thing on their minds. Moments where Alby’s temper wasn’t set off by somebody’s breathing and Newt didn’t have to see him become the stern and irascible leader he had to be to keep the place in order, didn’t have to defend Alby’s words or actions to anyone.

When they pulled apart, Alby looked into Newt’s eyes with remorse written all over his face. And then he started to talk about every little detail of his plan, which wasn’t very much. It was hard to plan everything out when Alby barely had any idea of what he and Minho were getting into, what they would find. Newt listened in silence, offering suggestions when he could. There wasn’t much in it that he hadn’t guessed already anyway.

“In and out, Newt, that’s all it is,” Alby said when he was done. “Just like all the other runners. It’s all we can shuckin’ do out there anyway.”

Newt stayed quiet through it, nodding every now and then when Alby seemed to need it. Alby looked down to look at his face and Newt looked back up at him. Something stirred in the back of Alby’s mind then. It was a cold tendril of fear that seized his heart in its clutches and for a moment Alby was truly terrified of the thought of going into the Maze, of leaving Newt behind, of not having Newt with him when he was in the Maze. Newt frowned at him as if sensing it somehow and Alby forced the terrible feeling away.

He forced the Maze out of his mind and focused on Newt instead.

“Get some sleep, slinthead,” he said softly and Newt smiled at that.

“Look who’s talking, shank,” Newt said with a smirk.

In the end, neither of them slept a wink. They talked until the sun rose. It was terrible, all things considered, but it couldn’t be helped. When the sun came up, Newt helped Alby with his warm-up and stretching, and gave him his old runner’s pack to wear.

Minho was already waiting for them by the West Door an hour before the wake up. The runner nodded at the both of them when they reached him. All three of them were as alert as they could be, without even a hint of exhaustion on any of them.

“You ready, Admiral Alby?” Minho said cheekily to ease the tension and Alby punched him in the shoulder.

“Slim it, shuckface,” he said brusquely, but he was smirking.

Newt chuckled.

Minho looked at the blond and raised a brow. “You gonna hold the fort okay, Newt?”

Newt nodded, and Alby confidently said “He will” before Newt could even answer.

“All right then.” Minho walked forward to take his position while Alby stayed a little ways behind him. In front of them came a loud clank followed by a low groan. The doors were opening.

Alby turned to look at Newt whose eyes were wide as he stared up at the growing gap between the slabs of stone and metal. Alby felt his own pulse start to race and he stepped toward him, taking the blond’s hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze because a handshake was all he could ever give Newt when they could be seen by other Gladers.

“We’ll be back by noon,” Alby said and Newt nodded. Their eyes met and a million emotions flashed in Newt eyes as he clutched the older boy’s hand tightly in his.

“Good that,” he was all he could say. And then: “In and out.”

Alby nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “In and out.”

Then he turned away and set his mind to the task, clearing it of everything but the way to the inner ring, the way back out, and Newt.

The doors were almost fully open now and he called back to Newt, without looking at him. “Don’t forget our number one rule, Newt,” he ordered.

Beside him Minho said something about steak and potatoes.

All three of them took a deep breath.

Then the doors fully opened and Alby and Minho were gone.

END.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written smut in over two years so I'll be the first to admit I'm really rusty. Hope you liked it anyway! Feedback would be awesome.


End file.
